Street Scars
by ShaduofTexitar
Summary: Joey Wheeler is a street punk that has a secret that even he doesn't know about until one day (it takes a couple chapters to get there, so hang in there).
1. The punk

Author's Note: Hey, I'm writing a story about my third favorite character, Joey. Yeah, my top three are Seto Kaiba, Yugi Mutou/Yami (they're tied), and Joey Wheeler. What a combo! Anyway, I'm happy to bring you Street Scars.  
  
Disclaimer: Shouldn't they be called something like the "I dun owns?" I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh!  
  
[.]=Narration done by Joey.  
  
[My name is Joey Wheeler, in case you didn't already know that. I'm a street kid, a rough one. I'm a loner too. I don't have a gang, though I do have a group of friends, but they come into play later. What drove me to the streets? My dad's a drunk and my sister and mother have moved far away. The streets are home. They judge solely on how tough you are. Only the strongest survive. But once you prove you to be strong, they don't care who you are or what you've done. They care for you. They protect you. They don't condemn you. They sometimes fight you, but they always make up for it later. The streets are home. All you have to do is talk the talk, walk the walk, and be streetwise and cautious. For if you don't, the streets'll bite, and when they do, they bite hard.]  
  
Joey Wheeler, an eight-year-old street kid stepped out of his apartment. It was a brisk spring morning, just right for, well, pretty much everything.  
  
What was Joey good at? Anything that had to do with the streets. He knew the alleys and streets of Domino almost as well as the back of his hand. He was one of those loner street punks, no gang, no group of cronies, just him and his fists. He wore the baggy t-shirt and pants, along with the skateboarding shoes, for he was also a skateboarder, and a very good one at that. It was one of the only things he had to look forward to after school.  
  
Joey put his trusty skateboard on the ground, stepped on top of it, and pushed off. He felt the familiar wind whip through his golden blond hair. His brown eyes were intent on the road in front of him.  
  
He was one of the toughest kids out there. He was very streetwise, and he knew the street lingo. With no class or natural born grace, except in fights, or skateboarding, Joey seemed to be the perfect street kid. Every punk on the streets of Domino wanted to be like him. They knew that sometimes, he went days at a time without even going home. But there was a very good reason for that, considering that his home life was crud and his sister had been taken away from him just a year before.  
  
He knew what he was going to do after school; he was going to go down to the skate park and board there. He knew that he would have some kind of competition, but he liked that. It seemed that everyday, people would come out just to the informal competition between the boarders, roller skaters, and bicyclers. This wasn't a kiddy park; this one was a serious park. Everyone competed against another just for fun. There were no prizes, no medals, just the satisfaction of calling yourself top dog.  
  
Joey dug through the school day, all the while thinking about the skateboarding park near the apartment building he lived in.  
  
"Class, it's art time," the teacher said cheerfully.  
  
JOY, thought Joey sarcastically.  
  
Art class wasn't one of his favorite subjects. It's not that he wasn't good at it, on the contrary, he wasn't half bad. But it was that it entailed walking all the way to the prefabs on near the playground. And if that wasn't bad enough, the teacher was MUCH too cheery for Joey's liking. She just went on and on and on, wasting his time to think about the routine he was going to do at the park that afternoon. Most of the time, he wished she would just drop dead. They sat down in their seats in the musty prefabs.  
  
The prefabs always smelled like, well, Joey wasn't exactly sure what they smelled like. It didn't smell like his apartment, that was one good thing. Even though Joey had long since gotten used to the sickening smell of alcohol, sometimes he would come home and it would be strong enough to make him gag. But back to the prefabs. It smelled like, like new wood and dirty shoes. That was it. He drew a skateboard in class. The teacher remarked that it was all he ever seemed to draw. He just wanted to get out of there.  
  
Finally, the bell rang and Joey set off from school on his skateboard, never suspecting that one of the things that would change his life forever was waiting just around the bend.


	2. I'm coming

Author's Note: Hey, I'm back with another chappie of Street Scars. I like writing this story, it's very interesting. I hope you like it.  
  
I dun own: Yu-Gi-Oh!  
  
[.]=Narration by Joey  
  
Kuramas Koibito: Hey, as we say around my house, the only dumb question is a question not asked. However, if you're Brett James, that doesn't stand true. ANYWAY, the prefabs are those crummy little buildings that schools sometimes have for extras. They're just a step up from shack. They're sort of like those trailers in a trailer park, those could be considered prefabs. Hope that clears up something.  
  
[As you can see, I was a pretty rough kid. I always had been, and even now, still am a little. I wasn't into the whole, "Let's make friends" deal. I thought it was a bunch of junk. Or at least that's what I thought for the longest time. But as you're about to find out, that changed when I learned that even after you've become tough and streetwise, that the streets sometimes bite hard anyway.]  
  
Joey raced down the street towards park. He was itching for a good ride. Not one the streets give you, but what the slopes of the park give. The unmistakable rush of feeling free. Joey loved the feeling.  
  
He zipped along at a good pace until a small cry for help stopped him.  
  
"Help, somebody," it choked.  
  
Joey looked down the nearest alley, where the voice seemed to be coming from. There, he saw three boys crowded around one smaller one, who lay motionless on the cool, hard, ground.  
  
"Help," the boy on the ground murmured again.  
  
"Heh, like anyone's going to help you," the tallest of the three smirked, and then kicked the boy on the ground.  
  
He winched and tightened the ball he was already in. His arms seemed to be wrapped around his small body. He had a strange hair do. It was spiky. His bangs where yellow, the spikes themselves were black, however, they where edged with a purple red. He seemed to have been beaten before.  
  
"What was that?" the shortest of the group said when they heard the injured boy groan.  
  
They all kicked the boy again. He let out a cry of pain. Joey couldn't take it anymore.  
  
Sure, he was a street kid. Sure, he fought, but he fought to protect others, not hurt them on purpose like that. He decided to take a stand.  
  
"Hey, you," Joey growled. "Why don't you pick on someone that can actually give you a challenge?"  
  
They all looked at Joey, their eyes looking as dumb as they could. Then, they looked at each other, as if asking whether they should or not.  
  
"Awright," the tallest slurred.  
  
OBVIOUSLY NOT THE SHARPEST TOOL IN THE SHED, thought Joey.  
  
They all charged after him. Joey dodged fists and landed lots of his own. The boy on the ground weakly lifted his head to see why the bullies had left him. He watched a little as Joey fought the bullies, then weakly slinked away, hunched over in pain.  
  
GOOD, thought Joey. AT LEAST THE LITTLE GUY IS SAFE.  
  
Joey eventually began to run out of steam. He started to take hit after hit. Soon, he found himself lying on the ground just as the other boy had.  
  
"Well, this looks familiar," the tallest sneered. "Only this time, it was a fight."  
  
The others chuckled. The kicked him a little bit and then, left him for dead.  
  
Unable to get up, Joey laid there on the cold, hard ground, scraps and cuts bleeding out slowly and slightly onto the black asphalt. He could see his backpack and his skateboard. Oh, how he longed to be at the skateboard park. Why did he stop? What made it so that he couldn't help it? Why couldn't he have just ignored it, like he does pretty much everything in school, and keep going? Joey didn't know the answers, but he hoped that he wouldn't lie there for long. The streets may have been home, and they may provide protection, but when you're injured and lying on the streets, hoping and praying for protection, like you usually get, the streets are unfriendly and cold, and they don't give you what you need, just what you don't.


	3. Enter Tristan

Author's note: Sorry this took a while, I haven't had time to type. I've barely had time to think. Anyway, here's a new chapter.  
  
I dun own(s): Yu-Gi-Oh!  
  
[Like I said, the streets aren't always nice to you, even if you are it's brother. But maybe this little insident was a good thing. It introduced me to two people I probably would have never met on my own.]  
  
Joey just laid there, waiting for the end to come, he knew it would. He closed his eyes. This was it, this was how he would die. Then, a shadow loomed over him.  
  
"Hey, you alright down there?" a voice asked.  
  
Joey didn't respond.  
  
"Dude, you okay?" it asked again.  
  
Joey still didn't respond.  
  
"Man, I don't know what happened to you, but I do know that your injuries are pretty severe, so," the person picked Joey up, "I'm going to give you a hand."  
  
They walked along in silence for a long time, until Joey could find the words to speak.  
  
"Who are you?" Joey asked.  
  
"The name's Tristan, what's yours?" the person replied.  
  
"Joey," Joey answered.  
  
They walked in more silence.  
  
"Why are you helping me?" Joey asked.  
  
"Why not? Why ask why?" Tristan grinned.  
  
Joey gave him a strange look.  
  
"I'm not one of those that beat up people and leave them there," Tristan stated. "It's true, I do beat up people, but then I always help them."  
  
"So, why are you helping me?" Joey asked.  
  
"Why? Because I saw how you protected that little boy," Tristan said.  
  
Tristan and Joey kept talking about different things until they got to the hospital. When they told Tristan Joey was going to be okay, and that they were only going to keep him overnight for observation, that's when Tristan left.  
  
The next day, when Joey was released, he found his skateboard and headed to the park.  
  
"Hey, Joemister, where've you been?" one of the regulars greeted Joey with a slap on the back.  
  
"Fight yesterday," Joey growled.  
  
"Hey Joey, since you've just returned to your domain, why don't you go first today, huh?" another, slender skateboarder grinned.  
  
"Itching to see what the Joeinator has for you eh?" Joey teased. "Well alright then."  
  
Joey got to the top of the ramp and pushed off. He felt the fimilar rush through his hair and body. He enjoyed the temporary weightlessness as the board flung him into the air at incredible speed. Then it flung him back down after obeying Joey's commands of the tricks. Joey hit the ground and went to the other side only to be flung into the air again. Joey went on like this for a while until he hit the ground wrong and was sent trumbling off the board. But that's okay, he had done lots of tricks before hand, and at least he landed with grace.  
  
Joey walked off the ramp and was greeted by a familiar voice.  
  
"Hey Joey, great run," it said.  
  
Joey spun around and was greeted by a grinning face.  
  
"Tristan?" Joey asked astonished. "That was your name, right?"  
  
"Yup, sure was," Tristan replied.  
  
"I didn't think you were a skateboard person," Joey stated.  
  
"I'm not, I just wanted to see how you were doing and I know you hang here; I pass by this place everyday on my way home," Tristan shrugged.  
  
"I'm doing much better, thanks to you," Joey offered his hand to Tristan. "Wanna be pals, it seems you and I have something in common. We're both street kids."  
  
"Yeah, I guess we are," Tristan shook Joey's hand.  
  
Tristan stayed there the rest of the afternoon. He watched Joey skateboard. Joey even got Tristan to try a couple of times. Tristan wasn't very good, but it was his first time. Joey said he actually did very well for his first time. They walked home, and found out they lived near each other. But they finally parted, and Joey left his new friend in high spirits.


	4. Bullies

Shadu: Hey, I'm not writing just author's notes anymore. I want to introduce you to muse, Ish.  
  
Ish: HIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!  
  
Shadu: Ish is, um, hyper.  
  
Ish: speaking really fast No I'm not, I'm never hyper, I'm not hyper, don't send me away like you did that one time. I'm good, good.  
  
Shadu: --; Right.Anyways, my other muse, Hokage, is not hyper. He's very calm and shy, like Yugi. And Hokage will do the disclaimer.  
  
Hokage:. We don't own Yu-Gi-Oh!  
  
Shadu: There you have it, on with the story. Oh, and by the way, if you read Shonen Jump, or have seen the first, original season of Yu-Gi-Oh!, which is doubtful, I know I'm getting some of my facts wrong, I've read Shonen Jump too, but I didn't really like everything that went on in Shonen Jump, so I'm changing it a little. So, you have been warned. And if you don't know, don't worry.  
  
[Yep, that's how I met Tristan, and we soon became best buds. Yeah, never thought it would happen either. We became best friends because of that one day that he found me, lying on the streets, nearly half-dead, I think. Anyhow, we went through it all together, pain, suffering, sadness, anger, joyful times, I think I should stop now, this is starting to sound like Tea. O.O; I don't want that! I must be spending too much time around her. ANYWAY, Tristan and I became friends when we were eight, and so, that means we were together for six years before, um, you'll see.]  
  
Joey and Tristan walked into school, neither saying a word. Joey was in a sour mood, thanks to his idiotic dad. Why'd Joey have to be stuck with him? Joey looked over to the desk in the corner. A little runt sat there, a golden box in front of him. The kid seemed familiar, like a past memory or something. He had spiky black hair and yellow bangs. The spikes in his hair were lined with a maroonish red. The kid also had big purple eyes. He just sat by himself, him, his box, and the puzzle inside. Joey watched in disgust as the boy tried to piece together whatever was inside. It made Joey sick to watch him. What self-respecting guy put puzzles together? It was unheard of in his book. Joey walked over to him. Tristan followed.  
  
"Hey, kid, what's your name?" Joey growled.  
  
The boy looked up in surprize, and shyly answered, "Yugi."  
  
"Yugi eh?" Tristan smirked, reading what Joey was going to do.  
  
"Yeah," Yugi said softly.  
  
"Whatcha got there, Yugi?" Joey asked.  
  
"It's, a, a, puzzle," Yugi replied nervously.  
  
"What kinda puzzle?" Tristan poked.  
  
"I'm, not exactly, sure," Yugi stammered.  
  
"Not sure?" Tristan looked at Joey with a mocking tone. "How could you not know what kind of puzzle it is when you're trying to solve it?"  
  
"Here, maybe we can help," Joey told Yugi, picking up the box.  
  
"No, don't please, please don't!" Yugi cried.  
  
Joey held up the puzzle.  
  
"If you want it, you're going to have to take it from me," Joey sneered.  
  
Yugi just stood there, dumbfounded.  
  
"Well, are you going to take it back or not?" Tristan taunted.  
  
Yugi jumped up and down trying to get the small, golden box back, but try as he might, he was too short and couldn't reach it. Joey was so much taller than he was. I mean, let's face it, Yugi's kind of a runt.  
  
"Well, if you won't take it, I guess I'll," Joey paused, "not give it back. Hey Tristan, catch."  
  
Joey tossed the box to Tristan. Yugi ran over to Tristan, trying to retrieve his box.  
  
"Yo, Joey, here," Tristan tossed the box to Joey.  
  
This went on for a little until Yugi fell to his knees.  
  
"No, please stop, my Grampa gave me that puzzle," Yugi sobbed. "You don't know how much it means to me. Won't you please stop."  
  
"Did you hear that Joey? Little Yugi wants us to stop," Tristan smirked.  
  
"Sorry twerp, but if you're not man enough to take this from me, you don't deserve it," Joey smirked.  
  
They started to walk out until a girl stepped in their way.  
  
"Are you teasing others AGAIN?" she growled.  
  
"Gack, it's Tea, Joey, it's not worth it," Tristan gulped.  
  
"You," Joey uttered a curse under his breath. "Fine, if he wants it so bad, here," Joey tossed the box behind him, "He can have it."  
  
Then, he and Tristan stormed off.  
  
"Man, why does that stupid, idiot Tea always have butt in?" Tristan growled.  
  
"I don't know, but I don't like it, but I do like this little diddy right here," Joey smirked, producing a golden piece.  
  
"Dude, where'd you get that?" Tristan gaucked.  
  
"From little Yugi's box," Joey shrugged.  
  
"How?" Tristan asked.  
  
"I snuck it right before I gave the box to Tea," Joey smirked.  
  
"Mmm, I bet we could get a pretty penny for it," Tristan mused.  
  
"No, I have a better idea," Joey grinned devillishly.  
  
And then, he walked over to the window.  
  
Shadu: P.S. Merry Christmas everyone, from me, Hokage, and the ever hyper Ish. Merry Christmas and a happy New Year!


	5. What am I?

Shadu: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh!

[Well, I think we all know what happened next, so why go into the gory details, eh? If you don't, I'll recap realy fast. I got back the piece I threw in the water, Yugi, Tristan, Tea and I all became friends. I went to Duelist Kingdom and got second place and went to Battle City, got sucked into a Virtual Realm with a psycho name Noah, and finally finished Battle City. Right, well, this main part of this story is what happened to me AFTER Duelist Kingdom and Battle City. Let's just say that my home life went from bad, to worst.]

Joey raced out of the room. He had to get away from there. With nothing but a backpack filled with clothes and some food, he charged down the stairs.

"Get that boy!" someone shouted from behind him.

Joey ran faster. But the committee behind him gained distance and was quikcly closing the gap between them. Joey looked frantically around, and saw a window. In one last desperate attempt, he crashed through the window. Glass shattered around him, but no one followed as he made his escape.

Running farther and farther into the streets of the West Side of Domino, Joey thought about what he had done. But, what really had he done? He couldn't tell, it happened too quick. And when he finally got a chance to stop in an alley, and catch his breath, he looked at his hands. His bloody, awful hands. He clenched them into fists in anger. Why had he done it?

All he could remember was an awful rage inside of him, and then he lashed out at his stupid father. Joey swiped furiously at his father in a blind rage. And before he knew it, he dad was lying on the ground, dead. And blood dripped from his fingers. He looked at his dad, and then at his fingers and realized he had done something terribly wrong. In a furiory to get out of there, he grabbed a bag and started to stuff his clothes, which wasn't very many, and some food. He snagged some money and his old skateboard as well. About that time, a neighbor, over hearing the noise coming from his father in the assualt, came to inspect, and made the connection as well. They chased him, and he ran away.

Joey sat on the ground, the cold, awful, sternful, mean gorund, and stared at his hands. It's true, he had never liked his father, but he had never wanted to kill him either. But he had. He had with his bare hands. But how? How could he have possibly done that, and have blood on his hands. Far off somewhere, he could faintly hear the school bell ring.

Joey sat in silent struggle. Should he go to school and act as though nothing had happened? Should he stay away from school, and his friends? Yugi would, no doubt, come and look for him, but should Joey go to him instead? So Yugi didn't have to venture in the most dangerous part of town?

After a couple of minutes of debating, Joey stood up and slowly walked in the direction of the school. He would go to school, but he was in no hurry, so he didn't rush. But a thought made him stop. He looked at his elbow that he had used to crash through the window. It was a gory mess. He couldn't show up in class like that. Maybe he should see the nurse before going to class. No, he couldn't. A murderer like him doesn't deserve medical treatment, he told himself. And so he continued his painful journey to school.

He wished that he had never reminded himself that his arm was injured, for now a throbbing pain came from it constantly, and if he tried to move in the slighest, a sharp, piercing pain like that of a gun shot up through his arm and flooded throughout his body.

By the time he reached school, he was so white and trembling that the nusre was almost afraid of him, thinking that he was a ghost or something. Joey had to pass by the nusre's office to get to his class, and she stopped him.

"Mr. Wheeler, come here," the nurse called to him.

"I'd rather not," Joey stated.

IT'S PRETTY SAD WHEN THE NURSE KNOWS YOU BY NAME, Joey thought.

"Mr. Wheeler, come here this instant," the nurse stated more strenly.

"Fine, fine, don't get worked up over nothing," Joey groaned.

This was the last thing he wanted. To have to deal with the nurse after his arrival. He wasn't sure wether he really wanted to come in the first place, now he was sure he shouldn't have come at all. But it was too late now. And that meant he had to put up with the nurse.

She lead him into the infirmary where she forced him to sit on the table in the middle of the room. While she got what she needed, Joey looked mindlessly around. This nurse liked cutesy stuff, and it showed. Little puppies on the wall, cartoon cats, pukeishly cute, on the cabinet, big eyed somethings on the door. Joey instantly remembered why he didn't like coming here. It made him fell worse instead of feeling better.

The nusre soon made her way over to Joey and examined his arm. It was exteremly bloody and pieces of glas still stuck out of it, and Joey felt that after shedding his father's blood, he deserved it. He had never liked his father, but he never would've killed, or so he thought.

"How'd you do this?" the nurse asked.

"Uh, I ran into some window these guys were putting in," Joey stammered for a lie.

The nurse was silent. She could tell Joey didn't want to talk. So she just picked the shards of glass out of his arm and bandaged it up after cleaning it. Then she sent Joey on his way to class with two notes; one for the teacher he had this hour, and the other for the gym teacher stating that Joey couldn't play any games for a while.

Joey just walked into the class room of his third hour, which was half over. He handed the first paper to the teacher. The teacher's eyes read the note quickly and looked at Joey.

"Is this a joke?" he asked.

Joey, who was holding his injured arm, shook his head.

"So, you can't write?" the teacher raised an eyebrow.

"I'm right-handed, and I've injured my right arm," Joey explained in a low tone. "I can't even pick up a pencil without pain."

"Fine, fine, sit down in your seat," the teacher grumbled. "We were reading in our novel, Call of the Wild, pg. 19. I'm assuming you can still read."

"Yes sir," Joey shot the teacher a glare at the last remark and sat down at his seat between his friends.

He sat with Yugi in front of him, Tristan to the left, Duke to the right and Tea behind him. And they all gave him a concerned look when he sat down.

"Where were you this morning?" Tristan asked.

"I was a little delaid," Joey murmured.

He let out as small grunt of pain as he opened his book and laid it flat on his desk.

"A little? This is the middle of third hour! What happened to you?" Tea asked.

"I got sidetracked," Joey grumbled.

"But what took you so long?" Duke asked.

"Nothing, I just had a slight problem getting here," Joey growled warningly.

"Joey, we're only-"Yugi started but was stopped by Joey.

"Look guys, I just don't wanna talk about it, okay???" Joey shouted at his friends, causing the whole room to go silent for a second.

"Mr. Wheeler, first you come in late, and then you shout out, disrupting the class for the second time, one more disruption, and I'm sending you to the principal's, got it?" the teacher glared at Joey.

Joey gave the teacher a death look, but said nothing more.

Yugi turned back to the front. Joey wasn't acting like himself. Something was wrong. Something had happened on his way to school, but no one knew what. And he had been injured, pretty severly from what he could tell. Yugi had heard how Joey had groaned when he opened his book, and he saw how he cradled his arm like he did. It was bandaged, and the bandage showed signs of blood on it. However, Yugi would not press the issue. If Joey wanted to talk, he would. Something was wrong with Joey, and no one but he knew what it was.

But would it destroy him before he cold get help?

Shadu: Yes, I like this much better.

Hokage: Review, pretty please.


	6. I'm cornered

Shadu: Dun' own Yu-Gi-Oh! Nothing there has changed.

[Okay, maybe I was a little rough with my friends. But I didn't want to talk about it. They could never know. They would never find out if I never told them, or so I thought.]

Joey left school that afternoon before Yugi, or anyone else, got a chance to talk to him. Joey just walked along the familiar streets holding his arm and thinking about what he had done. Why had he killed his father?

"Yo! Joey!" Tristan's voice rang out over the streets.

Joey groaned and cursed under his breath. He had forgotten that Tristan knew his route home by heart. Joey didn't slow to let Tristan catch up with him. Joey was actually hoping that Tristan didn't catch up with him. But he did.

"Joey, what's wrong with you?" Tristan asked.

"Nothing," Joey stated.

"I wouldn't call that nothing," Tristan skillfully countered, pointing at Joey's elbow.

"That was a freak accident," Joey defended.

"Freak accidents don't cause you to walk in class during third hour," Tristan stated pointedly. "Unless it were a car crash," he added.

"Fine, I slept in really late and had problems finding my way," Joey growled.

"One, even though you sleep late, your father gets you up in time for second hour, at the latest, and also, you never loose your way," Tristan nodded his head.

"Tristan, just drop it!" Joey comanded, his eyes getting a red hue to them all of a sudden.

"Alright, okay, just don't get so touchy, I'm just trying to help," Tristan held up his hands.

But then Joey stopped. A thought had just occurred to him. He couldn't go home. That would be suicide. He would either be killed by those who live in the apartments, like they were trying to do this morning, or the police would come and get him. The neighbors hadn't seen exactly what had happened, but just like Joey did, they too had made the connection.

"Joey, what's wrong?" Tristan asked.

"I, uh, just remembered that I needed to pick up something from the store on my way home," Joey fibbed.

"Oh, okay, well, I need to get home A.S.A.P., catch ya," Tristan stated.

And with that, he left. Joey watched him go. He hated to lie like that, especially to Tristan, but he knew that he had to do it. Joey then turned around and took the long rode to the west side of town.

(Kame Game Shop)

Yugi lay on his bed staring at the poster on his ceiling(1). Yami could sense his uneasiness. Coming out of the Puzzle and standing in front of Yugi in his translusive form, he watched Yugi a little before speaking.

"What is it little one?" Yami asked.

"Huh? Oh, Yami, it's about Joey," Yugi stated.

"Go on," Yami replied, beckoning for Yugi to continue.

"He came to school really late today, and he had this bloody bangage on his arm," Yugi told him. "He said nothing about what happened, and when we tried to find out, he blew up in our faces."

"Hmmmm," was the only replied that Yugi was greeted with.

"I'm really worried about him," Yugi openly admitted. "I sensed something coming from him today."

"Yes, I sensed it too; it was almost like a dark presense," Yami nodded in agreement. "I fear that Joey might be in trouble."

Yugi said nothing, but he knew that Yami was right. Something was wrong, and something was out to get Joey.

(Joey's present location)

He collasped on the ground to catch his breath. His arm was really hurting now, but there was nothing he could do about it. He couldn't go to a hospital; they would probably be keeping an eye out for him. Then he cursed his rotten luck. He had forgotten something very important at his home. No, it wasn't his deck. No, it wasn't a picture of Serenity. He already had all of those. Well, at the time he wasn't thinking he needed it. But the more he thought about it, the more he realized his need for it.

"Why me?" the asked himself quietly.

Then, standing up, he put his pack in a hidden location, and ran back towards his apartment, even though he knew almost for certain what awaited him there was death.

(1) Don't laugh, I actually put posters on my ceiling. I, uh, kind of ran out of wall space.


End file.
